The Shepard Files
by FenixPhoenix
Summary: Everyone has a beginning, Commander Jo Shepard is no different. These are three stories, three alternate universes, all of them detailing a little of what happened before Shepard became a specter. Colonist/Sole Survivor, Spacer/Ruthless and Earthborn/war heroine. Three Shepards, one destiny. Each chapter can be read as a one-shot. R&R. Rated T for language.
1. COLONIST

**Author Notes: **So rather than a long story, I'm going to make a group of one-shots that would give some background to our favorite Commander: fem Shepard (in this case, Jo Shepard). The Shepard Files will thus consist of three separate stories (each one two chapters long, unless I decide to add a bonus to any of them). Each short story would be based on a background option bioware provides for Shepard. The index will go as follow:

[ONE] Colonist  
[TWO] Colonist/Sole Survivor

[THREE] Spacer  
[FOUR] Spacer/Ruthless

[FIVE] Earthborn  
[SIX] Earthborn/War Hero

I hope that you enjoy this as much as I'm enjoying doing it. I think you'll notice I've taken some creative license. For those who would like to download this into your kindle there's a **PDF aviliable at: ** gigi-fenixphoenix . deviantart/ # / d5ekxy7

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**The SHEPARD FILES**

by: FenixPhoenix

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[ O N E ]

**Psychological Report:** Colonist

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**Jo Shepard** sits across two solemn officials. Though they're not wearing white coats, she knows exactly who and what they are. It's the glint in their eyes what gives them away. They don't see her as a person but as a mystery to unravel. So far, they know little detail of what befell her. Trauma has rendered her speechless since they'd retrieved her from the brunt remains of the Colony that used to be her home. That's what they think, anyways. Truth is, it's not trauma what has kept her from talking, but shame.

It doesn't help that Alliance personnel has kept her guarded from the outside world. She's been inside one of their bases back on earth, not daring to peer out the windows, not wishing to move forward in hopes that the past may remain frozen in a happier time. Jo knows it's a fruitless effort; an unattainable wish, yet she doesn't want to forget what happened and, as it incoherent as it sounds, she's not ready to acknowledge it either.

That's what brings these two men here. Their faces are new, but not those eyes; eyes that try to glimpse into her mind in hopes of finding what makes her tick -a _trigger_. They wouldn't call it that, of course. They call it a solution. Except, Jo knows there is no solution, there's only a trigger that if pressed prematurely would cause her to snap and plunge into the abyss of dementia. She knows it. She feels the craziness there, in a corner of her mind. A voice tempts her to step off her little ledge, but Jo ignores it. She's been ignoring it ever since she heard the first scream, a wail of agony followed by begs of mercy.

Of course, there's also another voice, one that Jo clings to. It's the voice of her mother, demanding that she not give up, reminding her that her life cost them theirs and, as such, she's not allowed to waste it. Jo is aware of her loss and it is precisely because of it, that she cannot acknowledge it. In order to live with some semblance of normality she needs to stay strong. In order to stay strong she needs to ignore her mistake, a mistake that changed -_ended_ her life, a mistake that cannot be repeated.

"Post dramatic stress disorder," one of the men offers with a hum.

"I would have expected her to show signs of survivor's guilt as well," the other man says, typing something into his datapad. "She's shown little signs of being aware of her reality. Her previous doctors suggested that she might not even remember much of what she's gone through."

They talk as if she's not there. Jo knows she's not making their job any easier by keeping silent. The psychiatrists are trying to determine her mental state, trying to assess her emotional wounds. Jo doesn't want to know how deep they go, she doesn't even want to look at them because if she does...

"It says here she was found inside her house, two dead batarian slavers on the first floor. She had a smoking gun in hand and was covered in blood," the man with the datapad pauses, glances at his companion briefly, specifying, "_human_ blood." He continues reading in a monotone, "Seems like the body of her brother was there as well, bullet wound to the head, entry wound at the front." He frowns and mumbles something, typing in his datapad. Satisfied, he goes on, "Parents' bodies were also found nearby, entry wounds at the back of both their heads," he turns to the other doctor and nods, "consistent with batarian execution style."

The first man, blond with blue eyes, finally looks at her, acknowledging her. He tilts his head in belated greetings, probably just realizing that she's as present mentally as she's physically for the first time.

"Hello, Jo, I'm Dr. Stensen and this is my associate Dr. Millman," he introduces.

He leans forward, entwining his hands, waiting for something, maybe acknowledgment. Jo nods in confirmation, at a loss as to what else to say. They already know her name so...

That seems to do the trick, because Dr. Stensen breaches the subject that brought them here. "Do you want to talk about what happened, Jo?"

Jo shrugs. It's not like she has a choice, not when she's been sitting inside this room for more than an hour. The psychiatrists had taken their sweet time to arrive. Jo had to wonder if this was a new tactic, given how their colleges had failed to extract even one word from her.

Dr. Stensen reaches out and places a hand on her arm. Jo looks at it, waiting for those fingers to expand and turn grey, like the coarse hands of batarian slavers. He squeezes reassuringly. His hand feels heavy, the contact feels alien, it burns, but she forces herself not to shy away from it.

Jo knows she's been running for far too long and she's grown tired... so friggin' tired. Though she cannot fully acknowledge the tragedy, she's ready to accept the sacrifice. She must pay tribute to those who fought and those who died. She must disclose as much as she can of what happened. But Jo is also aware that she must tread carefully, that she mustn't dive too deep and excavate too much. There are things that she cannot speak out loud for fear that the voice that asks for her company in the pit of despair would gain strength. She cannot go crazy, if only to keep her promise, to live to fight another day.

"They came... so fast," she starts haltingly. Her voice sounds weird. It's been a while since she'd used it. Her throat seems to resent her. It's dry and irritated.

Dr. Millman puts his datapad down and fills a glass with water. He pushes it towards her. Jo nods her thanks and drains half of it.

"When you're ready," Dr. Stensen says, squeezing her wrist a little.

"Their attack... it was deadly," Jo admits, one hand gripping the glass, the other trapped under the doctor's heavy hand. "One moment their ship was on the sky, the next it was on the ground, cargo doors opened, spitting six-eyed monsters out its innards."

She takes a moment to gather the strength to open the Pandora's box where she's shoved the memory. She hates how Dr. Stensen is looking at her, his interest naked and unwelcomed. He makes her feel like she's a test subject in a mad experiment that ends with the destruction of Jo Shepard, unlucky colonist of the Attican Traverse.

"What happened next?" Dr. Millman enquires with barely-contained politeness, his impatience obvious.

Jo realizes her pause stretched for longer than intended. She doesn't know whether her rising annoyance is prompted by Dr. Millman's lack of sympathy or by the weakness in her resolve. Regardless, she composes herself and throws open the metaphoric box.

"They came prepared, armed with weapons far superior to ours. Their metal clad bodies were impenetrable to our pickaxes, which-," she stops when she reads their confusion and tries to explains, "pickaxes were the only things close at hand. Our colony was... I guess you would call it rural?" She shrugs, unsure. "We worked the field..."

"We understand," Dr. Stensen assures.

Jo nods but doesn't go on. She feels uncomfortable, stupid even. She doesn't like how ignorant she's been up till this point. She had lived a sheltered life, uncaring about anything outside of her immediate surroundings. Now that she seen more of the world, now that she's seen _Earth_, she regrets how close minded she's been raised.

"Your Colony was a rural one," Dr. Millman says, looking up at her, dark eyes emotionless. "Your description is accurate."

Jo has mixed feelings. She's grateful for his reassurance, but his delivery rubs her the wrong way. She looks around the room, unhappy to find no even one window. She starts to feel claustrophobic, sweat coating her tingling arms. The man touching her squeezes. He knows, he can probably see her fear and uncertainty.

"Take your time," he advices. Clearly he's not in the same page as Dr. Millman.

Shepard drops her eyes, gazing at Dr. Stensen's wrinkled hand. She wants to pull back, to refuse his comfort, but she doesn't. It's time to unload part of the burden in her soul. It's time to face the world and start to move. Forward, always forward. One step back and she might fall into the pit.

"I remember... screams. There was a lot of screaming from the south part of the colony. I... I was with my brother, arguing over something." She shakes her head briskly, " "I don't remember what it was. It was probably something stupid. We always argued about stupid things... He thought he knew better than me…" her voice drops into a whisper, "He did."

Jo gulps when her brother materializes out of thin air, called forth by the memory. He's standing behind the doctors, looking at her with his dark, big brown eyes. His skin is no longer toasted dark; instead it's pale and translucent.

Jo knows he's not really there. She tells herself it's a figment of her imagination, a production of her guilt. Most times, though, he is so vivid in detail that she has to wonder if his spirit has somehow latched himself onto her. Rather than fright, he brings a mixture of comfort and _dis_comfort. He's a constant reminder of her mistake, her lost of control. He's also a perpetual challenge to become strong enough to fight, to protect, to _survive_.

"Do you see someone there?" Dr. Millman asks, his interest obvious. His dark eyes had momentarily left his datapad to study her. Is he enjoying her torment?

Neither doctor care to glance behind them. They know there's no one in the room apart from the three of them. Jo shakes her head. If she tells them about Jarek Shepard, would they take him away? It's a risk she's unwilling to take. To keep her promise she cannot be caged inside a mental ward, under constant guard and medication. She has to pretend he's gone and, with little left to lose, she believes she can pull it off.

"I... I got lost in recollection," Jo excuses, half-shrugging and looking down.

She pulls her hand away from Dr. Stensen and brushes at her face. She takes advantage of the motion to brush at the tears welling in her eyes, threatening to fall. She blames those on her dry eyes, on the tiredness prompted by restless nights.

"Do you want to continue this at another time?"

Jo shakes her head and takes a deep breath. She pulls her hands away from her face and poses her eyes on Dr. Stensen, the doctor that tries to appear a little more sympathetic, but ends up being only a little less dethatched.

"No. I just… I need a some... time to gather my thoughts," Jo admits.

"It's alright. Try speaking about it in present tense, as if it's happening right now," Dr. Stensen instructs. "Closing your eyes might help. Just think back and tell us what's happening."

Jo nods, but keeps her eyes open. The last she wants is to relive everything so vividly, she ends up sharing more than she's prepared. When she's ready as she's ever going to be, she plunges into the past.

"We were -_are. _We_ are_ outside when we hear them come. Jarek, my brother, he grabs my arm and pulls me along behind him. People are running, trying to find their loved ones. I can see panic sweeping the colony like a wave after those first shots. It starts at the back and moves forward, gaining power, leaving no one untouched. I can feel my jaw working, but I can't get a word out. My brother seems cool under the circumstances. If he's scared, he hides it well.

"We get home in time to see our parents reaching the front door. They look relieved to find us unharmed. My brother is asking questions, but my Dad is shaking his head, ordering him up the stairs, to get the gun he keeps in the drawer of his nightstand."

For some reason, Jo feels the urge to explain this properly, "My Dad is like the Sheriff but we live in such a peaceful colony, he has the tendency of leaving his gun behind, opting to use words to break up arguments instead of brute force. Despite his position, he's-," she stops, realizes what she's been saying and corrects bitterly, "he _was_ a gentle man..."

Jo pauses, her voice fading. There's something in her throat, obstructing it, like a knot. She takes a moment to clear it, to gulp it down. Thankfully, neither doctor push her to continue, the trigger is being pressed but not too hard. At least that's something...

"My brother comes downstairs and the gun is in his hand. My mom... she has her arms around me. I can feel her trembling. It does little to reassure me and it falls to me to try to comfort her."

Jo hits the table with a fist. The sound makes the doctors jump, makes them nervous. She drops her fist onto the table again. The sound is loud and it bounces off the room, leaving an echo behind. She hears the door creak open, but Dr. Stensen stops the guard from coming in with an open palm. The door closes.

"This is what I hear." She punches the table again. "They're just outside, trying to break the door. The lock holds long enough for my Dad to wrap Jarek's hand around the Carnifex and turn the safety off."

Jo forces her voice to sound deeper, more manly. "Get your sister to the basement and stay there. Whatever you hear, whatever happens," her voice returns to normal, "his hands are on Jarek's shoulders and I see his eyes welling with tears. I've never heard him speak so solemnly before, his voice commanding, rendering us silent." She tries to mimic her dad again and says, "Whatever happens, don't come out!"

Jo takes a couple of deep breaths, hating that her hands are trembling. Her throat feels dry, the room feels even warmer. She brushes at her forehead absently, there's a thin layer of sweat there.

"Take your time," Dr. Stensen insists, trying his hand at a smile. Small as the quirking of his lips is, it still manages to look forced.

Jo ignores the cynical voice that makes fun of the doctor and nods at him. She grips her knees under the table, and forges on, "My mom hugs me tightly... kisses my forehead. She whispers in my ear, her body stops shaking but mine starts, 'Live, Jo, whatever happens... Promise me you'll make it.' I nod my head, unsure of what I'm agreeing to. Next thing I know, Jarek is dragging me away, into the back of the house. He pulls open the trapdoor below the carpet and urges me inside. I've just touched the floor when I notice he's still up there, silhouetted by the light.

Jo shakes her head, suddenly furious.

"'What the hell are you doing?' I think that's what I say, I'm not sure." She shakes her head again, her nails digging into her knees, probably breaking the skin. "I swear I saw him smile down at me, as if he cannot wait to be a hero." She looks at the ghost of her brother and continues, "'Live, Jo' he tells me and then, before I can climb back up, he pushes the door close. For a moment I stand there, unsure and horrified. Then I hear the sound of a struggle outside, grunts and... two gunshots."

Jo makes the sound of shooting, her hand mimicking a gun. She shoots at Dr. Stensen two times, aiming at his head, at the spot between his eyes. She drops her hand back onto her lap limply.

"It takes the sound of Jarek cursing to snap me out of my trance. I hurry up the stairs and try the door. I can't open it. He must have shoved something on top."

Jo pulls her hands out and bangs them on the table, not as loud as before but more insistent.

"'Jarek! Open up! Lemme out!' I yell other things, I'm sure I throw some curses in there. It's fake bravado, but I'm hoping to buy my family time." She stops banging, and continues in a lower voice, "I'm vaguely aware that I don't hear my mom's sobs or my dad's threats anymore. I think Jarek yells in order to cover the sound I'm making but I hear a smack and he's silent. Then I hear something scratching against the table and, next thing I know, the door is open. I look up and squint against the blinding light. A hand reaches down and pulls me out effortlessly."

Jo fists her hands, "I'm now face to face with a batarian mercenary. He smiles at me, his six eyes leering, his dirty teeth showing, tiny and sharp. His hand is still wrapped around my arm and he drags me to the next room... where... where..." she looks away and clears her throat, her eyes burning. "My parents are on the floor... they're dead." She shakes her head, combs invisible hair strands out of her face. "I search for my brother. Jarek's cheek is starting to swell. He's kneeling on the ground close to my dad's body, glaring at me. I can tell he's trying not to cry." Jo blinks away her tears. "The batarian behind him is holding a gun to the back of his head, but all eyes are on me."

Jo massages the back of her neck, there's a ball of stress there. She notices goose bumps covering her arms. It feels almost as though she's still back there, trapped in the past. She hates it. She looks away, focusing on a neutral spot on the wall.

"I don't like their looks," she confides eventually, still unable to meet the doctors' eyes, or her brother's. "Their eyes go up and down, as if assessing my value, but I can see... there's _lust_ there. I know it, I've seen it before..." She shakes her head, "They're alien and yet..." She looks at Dr. Stensen. She wants him to understand what she means, because she can't really find the words to describe what it felt like, "It's like they can be humans, y'know? Bad people, I mean..."

The doctors remain silent, probably wondering what she's trying to get at. Perhaps they don't understand... How can they, though? They weren't there, they didn't see... Jo forces herself not to shudder at the memory and keeps from crossing her arms. She has to appear strong. Not weak. Not anymore. Never again.

Jo focuses on Dr. Millman this time, "The batarian beside me pushes me down roughly. Jarek is screaming something, I don't know what. I can't think clearly because the batarian's hands are on my legs and he's trying to get to the button of my pants. I squirm and try to kick him. I think land a blow to his side, but it hurts me more than it does him."

Jo pushes the image aside, but the feeling remains, rendering her more vulnerable than she would have wanted. She doesn't want to see the batarian's face, but it stays stamped in her mind, fresh in its detail. Rather than fight it, she ends up embracing it. If these men want to know what happened, then she won't spare them the disgusting details. They asked for this, didn't they? This is what they wanted all along...

"He -the batarian, he's chuckling. There's saliva pooling at the corner of his dropping lips. It's..." Her face twists but when she notices, she dons an impassive mask. "He slaps me hard on the face. I reel back, banging my head on the floor." She touches a spot near the crown of her head and rubs at it absently. "I blink away tears. I can't see properly. For a moment there's black spots everywhere. Then they clear and I see my dad's Carnifex nearby. I reach for it, my fingers wrap around its butt. I grip it tightly, I know my life is depending on it, and slid my finger on the trigger. I twist and aim it at his face. He was so distracted he barely registers what's happening. He's so close, I cannot miss." Jo aims at Dr. Millman, waits for him to look at her and flexes her finger, mimicking a trigger. "I shoot him without warning, before he can back off, right between his bloody eyes."

She drops her hand onto the table in a fist. "But he falls on top of me and he's now pinning me down. He's heavy and his armor is cold against my skin. He's crushing me, I feel like I can't breathe. The other batarian snarls something. I think he calls me a bitch or something equivalent. I look at him and he's pointing his rifle at me. My arm isn't pinned, so I bring the gun up to his face and pull the trigger in one same motion..."

Jo sags into her seat, pulling her hands off the table, dropping them into her lap. She suddenly feels tired. She knows what's coming. If only she could change it...

"You shot him?" Dr. Millman asks, skeptical.

Jo shakes her head. "Nothing happened." She sighs," I did it-," she stops and switches back into present tense. It's slightly easier to talk about it this way. "I _do_ it again and same thing. The batarian starts to laugh, his rifle is still pointed at my head. I can see the laser is on, there's probably a red dot right in the middle of my forehead." Jo taps at the spot with two fingers in emphasis.

"At some point the batarian must have hit Jarek, because he's on the ground, face first, the back of his head bleeding. He isn't moving and I fear he might be dead. I start to panic. The batarian is coming and I'm still pinned and I'm...I'm-" Jo chuckles mirthlessly, "I'm bloody petrified, that's what I am. I struggle to push off the dead body. Something presses down on my leg. I peer at it and see a gun, holstered in the dead batarian's leg.

"Before I can even try to get it, the assault rifle is pressed to my forehead. It feels hot, I know it has been fired recently. This weapon killed-" She stops and glares at the wall. "I bring my eyes up to look at the slaver. I want to stare him down," another dry chuckle, "but, who am I kidding, I'm pissing myself with fright. I close my eyes and hold my breath. I'm thinking I'm done for, right?" She looks at Dr. Stensen and, for some reason, he nods, failing to understand the question had been rhetorical.

Jo shakes her head, still unable to believe what happened next."Next thing I know, BAM! I hear the shot but there's no pain. I open my eyes and I see Jarek wrestling the slaver. He must have tackled him because they're both on the floor. But Jarek is losing. He's slimmer and shorter." She refuses to say weaker.

Jo grinds her teeth and for a moment anger tints everything red. She looks at the ghost of her brother, whose eyes have yet to leave her. She rips hers away, unable to maintain eye contact as guilt raises.

"'Get the gun, Jo' he says to me, trying to throw the batarian off of him. I try to move but the body pinning me down is heavy. I see the batarian eyeing me as he straddles Jarek, he's lost his rifle, but it's not that far away from him..." Jo pauses. The doctors are on the edge of their seats, lost in her recollections. She doesn't want them there, she wants to throw them out. They're strangers in a private place of suffering. It feels a sacrilege for them to be there, witnessing her pain. She wants to slam the box of her memories close, she wants to lock it tight and hide it in the darkest depths of her psyche. But Jo knows it's too late now. So she dives in, headfirst.

"Then it happens," she says, brining her hands up. She flexes her fingers experimentally and then glares at them. How she wishes they would break... all of them!

"You're biotics kicked in?" Dr. Millman fills in the blank, typing something into the datapad he's yet to put down.

Jo nods, hiding her treacherous hands below the table. She looks up at Jarek. Her brother is looking at her, probably wondering what she'll do. She's reached the metaphoric crossroad, one path leads to the pretence of normality and eventually revenge; the other leads to loony town.

"Was this the first time you experienced them?" Dr. Stensen prompts.

"Yes…no." Jo brushes at her face in building frustration and combs dark tresses away from her eyes. Even after all this time, the scene feels wrong... muddy somehow.

"I felt them before," she admits, "whenever I would lose my temper, but never like this. This was… exciting and frightening. It started in my extremities, rushed to my core and back to my fingers, out through my pores. It felt like an electric current, only I felt like vomiting at the intensity, left me shaking in the aftermath."

"It's remarkable for someone untrained to have managed a shockwave as strong as the one you seem to have produced," Dr. Millman informs, looking her in the eye, as if to check for lies.

If that was supposed to be a compliment, it certainly didn't feel like it. Jo shrugs, unsure of how she's expected to respond.

"Did you take them both out?" the doctor redirects.

Jo answers without hesitation, "No, I didn't."

Her eyes jump to the ghost standing there, shaking his head. She can see his reproach, but she ignores him. It's for the best, that's what she tells herself. A lie for revenge, is that not a worthy trade?

"No?" Dr. Millman tilts his head, his tone indicates surprise and suspicion. "Perhaps you're confu-"

"I produced –what did you call it? A shockwave?—I produced one of those, yes. I think it would have been strong enough to deal some damage, but the attack wasn't dead on," she hurries to explain, her tone harsh and uncompromising. "It grazed the batarian, pushed him away from me and Jarek but towards his gun. He grabbed it and shot my brother dead. The shockwave freed me of the dead body, and I managed to get to the discarded gun -not my dad's, the other one, the one the dead batarian had. I used it, shot the slaver before he could come at me again."

The doctors' eyes are on her. They seem to be waiting for her to add something to the story. There isn't anything else she wants to say.

"Your brother's body displayed traces of biotic burns…," Dr. Millman insists, leaving his sentence hanging, waiting for Jo to fill in the blanks.

Jo's hands ball underneath the table. She feels like gagging at her lie and screaming at her interrogators. Not without some major effort, she calms herself down.

"My biotics must have grazed him too, but they didn't kill him." Jo's voice sounds tired instead of sure. She hates that, but there's little she can do about it. She feels exhausted. "That's what happened. I'm sure of it. He was still alive after…"

She leans forward on the table, propping her face on her palms, hiding her distress.

"Okay, we'll include that in our report," Dr. Stensen says after an awkward pause. Either she's a better liar than she thought, or he really does have a heart. Whatever his reasons, Jo's grateful. "You may return to your quarters and rest. Everything will be okay, Jo. The worst has passed."

Jo nods and makes her way to the door, telling herself not to leave in too much of a hurry. She doesn't want them thinking she's running away from them, she doesn't want them thinking she's relieved to have been believed.

The guards outside acknowledge her as soon as she steps out. One man, the younger of them, offers a smile and asks if she's okay. Jo nods absently, adding another lie to the list. She walks down the hall in between him and a man –_the_ man who found her. Behind her she can feel Jarek, following silently, reproaching her the lie. Jo blinks away the tears, steeling herself for what's to come. When she reaches her room and is left alone, she turns to Jarek.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, voice trembling.

Jarek doesn't answer, he never talks. In his brown eyes, however, she detects the accusation. In the silence of her room, Jo fills in the blank.

'It was you who killed me, lil' sister.'

Jo goes to the bed and crumbles onto it. Her eyes burn with tears she dares not shed. She throws an arm across her face, hiding her eyes and the anguish in them. In the back of her lids, vivid in its detail, flashes the real nightmare…

_Jo watches as Jarek throws his aggressor off balance, twisting from underneath him and swiftly recovering his feet. He rushes towards the assault rifle and retrieves it. _

_"Jarek!" Jo warns, her voice high in its pitch._

_Jarek spins around and is face to face with his attacker. He smiles and points the gun at the batarian, confident of his position. Jo's emotions, however, are out of control. She tries to keep the energy building in her body from rushing out, but it's getting harder by the second. She can't seem to get reason to catch up with her emotions, to wrap around her fright and settle her racing heart. _

_"Jarek, I can't stop it!" She tries to tell him but her biotics kick in soon after, power spilling and spiraling out of control. The energy comes alive like a serpent, sliding towards the oblivious pair. Jarek turns, his eyes wide with unbelief. Friend and foe are thrown back by the force. _

_It takes Jo a couple of tries to gain her feet. She's trembling like crazy. She gazes at the scene with wide eyes, swallowing bitter bile. _

_"Jarek," she notices he's not moving, none of them are. Still, she checks the batarian first, puts her fingers to his throat and finds no pulse. His armor is broken, skin charred here and there, blood seeping out through eyes and mouth. _

_Jo tears her eyes away from the grisly death. She tries to gain her feet but they're even more uncooperative. She moves towards her brother, crawling on hands and knees, grabbing the discarded gun as she's passing it by. She rolls Jarek's body, barely stifles a scream at what she sees. He's burned badly, his eyes wide open, glazed and empty. There's blood covering him, coming out his mouth and eyes too. Jo brushes at it insistently, using first her hands and then her shirt._

_"No… please no. Jarek! Jarek, answer me! Please be alive, Jarek, please!" Jo searches for a pulse that she knows she won't find. "Jarek… please! You're all I have! Please! I'm sorry, just look at me! Please… please… please…" _

_Her heart is beating in her temples, her weakened body is shaking like jell-o. Sobs wreck her chest, tears blurring her sight. There's pain inside, lodged somewhere on her ribs, gripping her heart. _

_Suddenly a loud sound comes from outside. Jo zeroes on it, trying to find solace in something outside what used to be her home. She hears the thunder-like swoosh of ships sweeping in at high velocity, more than three. _

_"In the name of the Alliance, surrender at once or we'll be forced to open fire," the announcement rings loud and clear. Jo looks out the window, catching a couple of batarians answering with gunshots. The response is immediate and they're sprayed with gunfire, killed on the stop. The salvers left are not surrendering, but they aren't fighting either. Jo sees some of them calling a retreat, moving backward steadily, firing at someone up ahead. _

_Jo looks back at the scene she's in, stares at the limp body in her arms. She pulls her hands from underneath Jarek. They are red and sticky with blood. Would they believe she made a mistake? Would they believe she tried to stop herself? Would they send her to trial? Find her guilty…? _

_Jo panics._

_Her eyes settle on the rifle close by. She doesn't think too long or too much about what she has to do. She grabs it, and inspects it with trembling hands, checking to see the safety is off. Of course it is! She berates her stupidity, inhales deeply and turns back to Jarek. She forces herself up onto shaking legs and looks down at him, tears burning in her eyes. His face tells her his death was painful, even if it was swift. She points the rifle at him, squeezes a tear and shoots, vomiting right after, regretting her decision as soon as she's made it. The kickback of the rifle hurts her shoulder but it also makes her angry._

_She stalks towards the Batarian, anger veiling everything else. Fuck him, this all happened because of him! She finds solace in how his face is twisted with the pain he must have felt. His skin is no longer grey, it's pink and red, charred raw. If she had the time, she would scoop those eyes out and burn them in acid! She pushes those thoughts away, else she ends up vomiting the rest of her lunch. _

_"You fuckin' beast! It's all your fault, you hear me?" Jo puts three bullets into his skull. "Do you hear me? It's all because you came!" She continues to squeeze, disfiguring his face completely. _

_An alliance Soldier throws the door open sometime after, probably when he heard the commotion. She doesn't notice him there until the rifle is out of bullets and he's beside her, gently taking the gun out of her numb hands. Jo turns to him. She can't see his face, it's half covered by his visor. Grief rises, drowning out her hate and she falls to her knees, her face twisting with pain. She gags, her stomach heaving, her throat aching. The soldier kneels behind her, places a hand on her back almost gently._

_"It's all right. You're safe now," he sounds genuinely concerned, which only makes things worse._

_Jo looks at him, tears brimming in her eyes, hands coated red with blood. And all she can think is, 'no, I'm not okay. You're fucking late.'_

"You were fucking late," she repeats. And in the privacy of her room, in the company of a ghost, Jo Shepard finally allows herself to cry.

[ END OF FILE ]


	2. SOLE SURVIVOR

**AN: ** For those who would like to download this into your kindle there's a **PDF aviliable at: ** gigi-fenixphoenix . deviantart # / d5jqe3i

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**The SHEPARD FILES**

by: FenixPhoenix

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[ T W O ]

**Psychological Report:** Sole Survivor

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**Shepard **closes her eyes when she sees a road sign indicating their destination draws near. She finds the hum of the car preferable to the bombardment of bad propaganda, much of it promoting the System Alliance.

"Everything okay, Commander?" the man driving asks, missing nothing.

Shepard glances at him, noticing his tilted brow. Despite how callous he sounds, Shepard knows he truly cares. This man has been paramount in advancing her career, after all. Which makes it ironic that he's with her now, driving her back to the place where it all began. More so, because it was him who'd drove her out of there almost thirteen years past. Was this going to be one of those vicious circles that would repeat endlessly? Was she destined to come back here again and again, to revisit the tragedies of her life and try to hide the pieces of her broken mind?

"Shepard," he calls again, probably worried by her silence. She prefers it when he calls her by name rather than title. Shepard. That's her name now. Jo died in her colony, another victim of the batarian slavers' raid. The only one left was Shepard, the last legacy of a dead family.

"Commander Shepard," Captain David Anderson steers the car onto the side of the road and stops. "Can you even hear me?"

Shepard smirks, dismissing his concern with a shrug. "Commander, huh?" she echoes. He doesn't seem completely satisfied, but at least he hits the accelerator and continues down the road.

"What's on your mind, Shepard?"

She props her elbow on the door of the car and leans on her arm, resting her chin on her fist, pressing part of her forehead onto the cool glass. It helps combat the warmth that has wormed its way inside her system, making her sweat underneath her uniform.

"I think I haven't gotten used to it yet, sir" she excuses. Noticing his confusion, she specifies, "The title, I mean." It's a half-truth. It's not that she hasn't gotten used to it, Shepard just feels undeserving of it, especially since she'd failed in her duties to lead her men and bring them home.

Anderson smiles sympathetically, oblivious to her real feelings, "You will, just give it time."

"Speaking from experience, sir?" Shepard returns with a dry smile.

"You know it," Anderson chuckles, failing to see the cynicism swimming in her eyes. "In the meantime, I'll just keep calling you Shepard. That alright?"

It's the first time since the attack that Shepard feels a genuine smile tugging at the corners of her lips, "Sounds good to me, sir."

Anderson glances at her and worry seems to make its way back into his brow. "Listen, I know everything feels overwhelming right now, Shepard. That's why we're doing this. We want to make sure you're okay."

She nods but says nothing. What is there to say, really? She understands where he's coming from, but nothing is that simple. Worry might be part of the reason why she's being brought back to the Alliance home base on earth, but it's not the only reason -hell, it might not even be the biggest one!

Politics. Everything always revolves around them and the military has its own very special kind. Naturally, with every political party comes a crew to develop some shitty-ass propaganda. Shepard is smart enough to figure out that some higher-up wants her ready to be shown around, paraded like an exotic specimen, the best humanity has to offer or some such shit. She's also mature enough to accept it and ride it out. That doesn't mean, however, that she has to like it or -as they're about to find out- become a willing participant.

She turns away just in time to see another recruitment advert appear on the side of the road. It's a big digital billboard of a man dressed in formal blues, saluting with the Alliance flag in the background. His eyes are looking up and beyond, alight with dreams of glory and fucking rainbows.

Shepard snorts quietly at the misrepresentation of the job. A military career with the Alliance goes beyond pride and comradeship. In order to earn those things, in order to forge those bonds, one must go through hell and back. Gunshots, scars, fights... death, that's what should be shown in the poster as well. There can be no rainbows without rain, and with the Alliance it's more often than not chunks of ice hailing down at your unprotected head.

"Tomorrow afternoon we have a meeting with General Hackett," Anderson informs.

"So, I'll be wasting my vacation on politics. That's just great. I can't wait, sir."

"You're actually using your sick days for this," Anderson corrects lightheartedly. "Fine, Shepard. I'll tell you what, after this meeting, I'll take you to a bar I like."

"What about what I like, sir?"

"What you like are drinks and those are on me tonight."

Shepard chuckles, "Why, you do know how to conquer a soldier's heart, sir."

"Yes, well, enough with the 'sir' thing, Shepard. When it's just us, you lose it. You make me feel old and unappreciated, like those higher-ups you seem to dislike so much."

"You aren't like them, Anderson," Shepard argues, trying it out. It's easy to speak his name, feels almost natural. Perhaps because of how close they've become since she became his XO.

"Give them a chance, Shepard. Some of them might surprise you, like Hackett." He looks at her through the corner of his eyes, seizing her up, "Actually, I'm certain you'll like him."

"Maybe," Shepard shrugs, "You'll still be number one in my heart."

He chuckles and they fall back into companionable silence. Looking out the window, Shepard wonders what this General wants. Is he the spokesman for his group? Would he be the one asking her to pose for the media? What would he think if he knew her true feelings? That she didn't join the System Alliance out of love, but out of hate. That she does not strive to make the world a better place, but to wipe out slavers -batarian scum first and foremost. That rather than fight to protect, she fights for revenge. Would he still want her to become the poster girl for their campaign? Or would he ask her to smile and pretend that she's not broken? What would he do if he met her silent passenger?

On cue, Jarek Shepard materializes out of thin air. He's sitting in the back, looking at her through the rearview mirror. He's never spoken, yet his eyes convey more than his words ever could. He's concerned but not nervous. She envies how aloof he always seems, how untouched by time he's remained. Where once he'd been older, Jarek looks young, much younger than her. Maybe it's the scars that make her look as though she's lived a thousand lives already?

Shepard trails the mark that runs from her lower lip down to her chin. It's bumpy, lighter in color, hard to miss. Doctor Chakwas had offered to remove it at some point, but Shepard had declined. This is all that's left of the day a thresher maw tore her unit to pieces. The fierce attack had lasted an eternity and, from the fifty she'd led into the planet, only Shepard made it out. Nobody but her knew exactly what happened, how ruthless it had been. Nobody could picture it, even if she were to describe it. It's the emotions what makes up the memory. But this scar... this scar gives silent testimony of that tragedy. This scar could not lie, even if she did.

In a more intimate level, Shepard has grown attached to it. It's still an unmerciful reminder of how many men she's lost, of how powerless she felt... but it's also proof that she made it, a survivor's medal of sorts. It's also a mirror showing a taste of what's inside -those emotional and psychological wounds that get reopened every night, with every nightmare that wakes her up with a scream lodged in her throat.

"Are you really alright, Shepard?" Anderson's looking at her again and Shepard realizes with surprise that they've arrived. How in hell did she missed the check-in at the gate?

She unlocks her seatbelt once Anderson parks and surrenders a half-truth, "I was just thinking about the last time I was here."

She gets out of the car. Jarek is nowhere to be seen. He'll be back, of course, he never leaves for long. What people had often referred to as her 'big-motherfucking-guardian-angel', Shepard knows by the name of Jarek. His latest _warning_ was the only thing that saved her life. Luck had nothing to do with it. Neither had skill.

"This is where we met, isn't it?" Anderson says, falling into step beside her. "You were, what? Fifteen?"

"Sixteen," Shepard corrects, feeling guarded. The last time she was here, she had been a victim and had been treated as such. Was history going to repeat itself? Or would her title save her the trouble of being patronized?

"Right," Anderson nods, stopping before the ominous double doors of the main building. The guards outside say nothing. They're trying not to look at them, but Shepard can see they're finding it hard. The temptation is making them sweat.

How could they not? They make for a interesting pair, Anderson and her. More him than her, of course. After all, this is Captain David Anderson, war hero, the Alliance's most decorated special forces operative and first to graduate from the N7 program. Shepard, on the other hand, is a common soldier who's best skill is having Jarek pull her out of trouble, her best weapon unleashing biotics with unstable L5n implants. Beside Anderson, Shepard feels inadequate. Yet, reality is a matter of perspective and while she thinks herself nothing special, how she's viewed is quite different.

For most people Shepard's a survivor, a symbol of humanity's strength and endurance. She's a dramatic success story of someone stepping out of the ashes of her past, renewed and unconquerable. She smirks at the lie. Man, how skewed a reality the media has painted! What they believe is nothing more than a damn fairy tale! Shepard has stepped out of the fire, true, but she's not untouched. There's plenty of scars burning inside and the real picture ain't pretty. Shepard has yet to find her rainbow, all she's gotten so far is a ceiling of ominous clouds and harsh fucking rain.

"Listen, Shepard," Anderson places a hand on each of her shoulders. She feels fifteen again, wishing for the comfort of this giant. "Say the word and I'll pull the plug on this."

It's a tempting offer, but Shepard knows what it's like to run. Eventually she'll get tired. Rather than wait for that to happen, she believes it's best to step into the storm and, hopefully, reach the calm of its eye.

"Pardon my language but that'll get you into a whole shitload of trouble, sir."

"You're worth it, Shepard," Anderson admits, straight to the point.

Coming from him, that's a bigger compliment than anything that's being said about her on the news. Shepard blinks away the sudden moisture in her eyes. She cannot ignore how big a role this man has played in her life. David Anderson has been more than a mentor and a silent benefactor. It had been his recommendation what had gotten her into the N7 program, and it had been his faith in her what had kept her going. That and her promise to her family. In the innermost recesses of her psyche, the thirst for vengeance has never been quenched, but that is something she would never speak of, not even to this man. That's a secret between her and her passenger, one that she would probably take to her grave.

"Thank you, sir." Shepard says, shrugging her emotions away, leaving on their wake steadfast cynicism. "The way we're talking, you'd think I'm walking into war with nothing but a pickaxe."

She realizes what she's said belatedly. Anderson must have read the report on what happened to her colony, because he's looking even more concerned than before.

"Anyways," Shepard continues, unfazed, trying to make up for the slip. "I think we both know I've faced much worst." If she's already introduced the subject of her past, she might as well play it. It's her defensive mechanism to joke in the face of tragedy, and she does that with an expertise develop over the years. "You should've seen me back when my colony was attacked. Now that was a battle right there. I was armed with nothing but a bladder full of piss. Fortunately for the slavers, the Alliance came just in time to keep me from pissing a batarian to his death."

She can tell Anderson's not amused. He's now looking at her as though she's lost a marble.

"Come on, Captain, I'm okay," Shepard assures, moving away before he can peer into her eyes too closely and see the hint of insanity there. That voice never left her either. In her moments of vulnerability, it keeps tempting Shepard to jump off her little ledge and join it.

When they finally step into the main building, Shepard finds two familiar guards waiting for her. Despite the changes brought about by age, she recognizes them instantly. These are the same two who would escort her around the base when she had been here last. They notice her, square themselves and salute. She returns the salute, inwardly grateful that her fears are proven baseless. She's not being treated as a victim..._yet_.

When Anderson steps in, the two men straighten even more, puffing out their chest, acknowledging his rank. Anderson returns the salute.

"At ease, gentlemen," he says. He approaches Liam, the one who found her in the aftermath of her colony's attack, and shakes hands with him. They greet each other like old friends. Liam is grinning so widely, that every line in his face gets accentuated.

When Anderson shakes hands with Bryson, the man positively glows. Shepard doesn't think he's as close to the Captain as his comrade, maybe because he never got the opportunity to serve with him.

"Commander," Liam's attention switches to her. His brown hair is almost all white now. She wonders if he detects as many changes in her as she does in him.

When he puts out his hand, Shepard shakes it, "It's been long."

"I wish our reunion was under better circumstances," Liam admits.

"That would be unrealistic," Shepard shrugs, "death has a thing for me, haven't you heard? I would call it an infatuation, but that might leave me stranded on a vorcha island next."

The three men exchange a concerned look.

"You guys need to relax," Shepard chuckles, at a loss as to what else to say.

Hoping to break the awkwardness, Bryson steps forward and greets her, "Commander Shepard." He shakes her hand as well. Like Jarek, this man has stayed pretty much the same, with the exception of some white peppering his temples.

Shepard quirks an eyebrow and gives him a once-over unabashedly. "Life's been treating you kindly, I see. You haven't changed much."

Bryson blushes and laughs. It's curious how it's never sexual harassment when a woman scrutinizes a man. Shepard's not about to complain. It's one of the few advantages of being a woman in the military and she's not about to waste it.

"Can't complain, Commander," he admits, still grinning boyishly. "Things here are pretty peaceful unlike what-" He stops and blushes again, more with mortification than embarrassment. She has a pretty good idea of what he was going to say and wish he had. Isn't that the main reason why she's here? To talk this shit out?

"Well then, we better get going," Liam says, breaking the tension. "Follow me, Commander."

"Lead the way," Shepard says unhelpfully, following with Bryson and Anderson quietly on tow. They stop once they reach the door that leads to the room where her past confession took place.

"I'll be here when you come out, Commander," Anderson says, addressing her formally. It's reassuring to hear those words. At least when she steps back into reality this time, she'll be welcomed by a friendly face and the promise of hard liquor.

"Won't be long," Shepard says and steps inside before they can say anything else, before they can tell her to take her time. She doesn't want to take her time, she wants to do this fast so she can cross it out from her to-do-list.

The door swooshes close and Shepard's finally left alone. She's been in the company of person after person: military personal, doctors, reporters... everyone wanting a piece of her, everyone treating her like cracked glass that might break if spoken harshly to. She's tired of it, which is why she's somewhat relieved to do this and have the whole sham over with.

Honey, tired eyes inspect the small room. It's empty except for a plain, metal table and a chair on either side. Shepard takes one of them, still trying to detect any changes in the room. Is this the same chair she used the last time she was here? Is that the same spot in the wall she focused on when she was talking about the lusty batarian?

She places her hands on the table, entwining her fingers. The surface is cold in more than one way. The room isn't inviting. It looks more like an interrogation room than anything else. She follows that train of thought. If interrogation is when you pull information out of your enemy, what do you call it when you do it to your ally? Debriefing? Psychological interview? If that's so, then wouldn't a psychologist be nothing more than a benign interrogator?

The door opens and Shepard's grateful. She doesn't like the path paved by her cynic thoughts, makes her nervous. She recognizes the man that steps through instantly. His dark hair has turned grey, but his eyes are still the same, dark and detached.

"It's been long, hasn't it, Jo?" Dr. Millman greets cordially, placing a glass of water on the table near her.

"Shepard," she corrects dryly.

"Come again?"

"My name," she specifies, "I go by Shepard now."

He takes the seat in front of her, his datapad in hand. It's the same model as before, which is weird considering the Alliance has never been stingy with their equipment. Perhaps it holds sentimental value of some sort? It's almost absurd that this man could feel human emotions. Then again, who's she to pass on judgment?

"Is there a reason for it?" he asks, tone still polite, still dethatched, although his interest seems on the rise.

"No." When he doesn't seem satisfied, she adds, "It's not a big deal. I've just gotten used to it, I guess."

"Your first name is personal. It's what differentiates you from your family, yet by asking others to ignore it, it might imply that you have ceased to accept your individuality," Dr. Millman suggests. "Do you still think of yourself as Jo or have you shed your name completely?"

"Hey, you want to attach more meaning into this, then be my guest," Shepard argues, forcing herself not to cross her arms. She wants to hide behind a stoic mask, but she can feel heat rising to her face, probably painting an unbecoming blush on her cheeks. She shrugs to counteract her body's reaction. "Just don't go around putting words in my mouth, doc. You don't hear me calling you by your first name, do you?"

"Fair enough," he surrenders politely and types something into his datapad before locking eyes with her. "Shepard then, agreed?"

Shepard leans back. She wants to pull her hands away to hide some of her tension. It's clear she's uncomfortable. One look at how tensed her fingers are flexed exhibits as much. Yet, pulling back might prompt Dr. Millman to read more into that as well. She's not going to hide, not this time, or at least not in the way he's implying.

"Where's your friend?" she asks, changing the subject.

"You mean... Dr. Stensen?" His dark eyes stray to his datapad. He looks at it but does not see it. Shepard can tell he's somewhere else, visiting a distant memory. After a while he blinks out of it and informs, "He passed away a year ago."

She might be wrong, but for a moment Dr. Millman seems exhausted. It's good to know that emotions can conquer even him, that he's not as immune to them as he appears. Makes him a flawed human... just like her.

"What happened?" She asks, curious.

Dr. Millman seems to mull over the question for a while before answering, "A situation grew out of control." He smiles sadly, "Wrong place, wrong time. That's what some called it."

"Some, not you?"

Dr. Millman chuckles softly, the sound mirthless, "Why, Shepard, one would think I've become the patient." He leans back on his seat, his eyes dethatched again. "Let us return to our respective roles."

Shepard shrugs, faking indifference, "Only us this time, then?"

"Unless you wish for someone else to be present?" Dr. Millman offers.

Shepard turns him down with a curt shake of the head. Anderson does come to mind, but she doesn't want to disappoint him. What happened to her... there's nothing special about it. It wasn't a grand adventure where skills and courage alone saw her through. It was a nightmare of epic proportions, where nothing was within Shepard's control.

It's hard to admit, but the Shepard people know... she doesn't exist. She never did. She's an illusion constructed by the media. When it comes to her, the truth is often hidden under a haze, hard to grasp, almost impossible to admit. Perhaps that's why the media has such an easy time lying? Because if people where to find the truth about Shepard, she would not be able to fill in the hero's shoes.

"Alright," Dr. Millman says, navigating through the menus of his datapad.

She watches him, trying to figure him out for a change. Her back is still rigid, though. It doesn't matter how much she wants to, she cannot force her body to fully relax. The silence stretches. Shepard knows he's expecting her to start, but she can't decide where. How far back into that day must she travel?

"Do you know why you're here?" he enquires.

"You want to know what happened on Akuz," she answers and this time, she does pull her hands off the table, dropping them into her lap.

"Kind of," he says, surprising her with his honesty.

"Kind of?"

"You've already given a report about what happened, haven't you?"

"The debriefing?" she offers, guarded, a little confused as to what he's trying to get at.

Dr. Millman smiles. It's an almost imperceptible quirking of the lips. "I don't want you to just talk about what happened." He looks at her, leaning forward, avid. There's something in his eyes, something she's seen before... whenever she would gaze at a mirror. "I want you to _re-live_ it for me, Shepard. Like you did last time."

She knows that glint! It's a hint of insanity what's staring right back at her. It takes Shepard a moment to overcome the shock of her discovery. Is she misreading things? Can her mind be playing tricks on her even while she's awake? Is it wishful thinking to want the person charged with determining her mental state to be just as broken as she is? Whatever the case, the thought is... _reassuring_.

"Can you do it for me, Shepard?" Dr. Millman pushes, the hint of insanity diving back below the surface of his dark eyes. He looks again the dethatched, sane doctor from the first session thirteen years ago.

"Like with my colony?" she asks, donning an impassive mask.

"You can't say it, can you?" he challenges out of nowhere.

It takes her a while to register his question, and even then she fails to understand it. What galls her, however, is his expression. His eyes are cringing almost tauntingly.

"I don't follow," she confides reluctantly.

"The name of your colony," he looks down at his datapad. "When you talked about it last time, you avoided the name. You referred to it as 'my colony' or 'the colony'." He looks back at her, "Does this sound familiar?"

Shepard's gripping her knees below the table. There's anger building inside of her, but she's not sure where it comes from. He prompted it, that much she knows. But whether ignited by his tone or the subject she's not certain.

"You're reading too much into it," she objects. Yet, his words ring true. Though she has never been conscious of it, she cannot deny it either. She has never once spoken the name of her colony, not to Anderson, not to Jarek, not even to herself.

"Am I? It's the same thing you're doing now with your own name, Shepard," he reasons. "Do you see the connection? By calling it a colony, you're detaching yourself from it, severing all emotional ties. It's not unusual in cases such as-"

"Mindoir," the name rolls down her tongue, but leaves a bitter taste behind. Shepard's surprised at how hard it is to say. It's as if her tongue has forgotten how to pronounce it. "Mindoir," she tries again. Yet, it still sounds as though she's trying to speak hanar. Had it always been this weird? Did it always sound so... _wrong_?

"How does it feel?" he questions, his finger hovering above the datapad, ready to start typing something, her response maybe? "Does it feel more personal?"

Shepard doesn't want to answer that. She hates how he seems to know everything, as though he's sowed something in her mind, a bug that leeches information straight into that datapad he likes so much. Her arms are tingling, there's energy moving below her skin. She shuts it down before it can materialize into purple lightning clouds around her body. She's given him enough power already.

"I came to talk about Akuz, doctor, not about my-" she stops and kicks herself mentally for the slip. "Not about Mindoir."

"Fair enough, Shepard." He tilts his head, types something into his datapad and when he's finished, he focuses back on her. "Whenever you're ready."

"Present tense?" she asks, not really knowing why. It's not like she needs his permission.

"Whatever makes you more comfortable."

Unlike the last time she saw him, his eyes seem to stay on her longer, and less on his datapad. She wonders if he feels forced to play the part of Dr. Stensen, given his absence. It could, of course, simply mean he's changed. Regardless of the reason, his gaze makes Shepard uncomfortable.

"It starts with a distress call," she begins. "Alliance high-command has lost contact with the pioneer team meant to start colonizing Akuz. The mission is made priority after two days without solid reports on the subject. Nobody has any input on what happened, so it's up to us to find out."

"I'm informed by Captain David Anderson that there's been reports of Geth activity in the area, so I'm to take enough men to repel them if we encounter them in Akuz. I hand-pick fifty marines to go with me and divide them into ten unites. It takes three shuttle trips to land the entire force. We're allowed half a dozen makos for support, which are carrying most of our supplies.

"My first impression of Akuz is that it looks pretty damn deserted. There's no native sound past the ruckus we're making. The terrain looks to be mostly steep mountains with sharp, jagged edges. They loom all around us, as far at the eye can see. The sight prompts a few audible groans from the men on foot. When I order the march to start, I decide to walk at the front of the line."

"Why?"

Shepard quirks an eyebrow, "Why walk?" He nods. "Why does it matter?"

"I'm curious," he admits.

If only to reward his blunt honesty, Shepard gives in, "It's how I lead. When I was made a Commander, I vowed I would do the same tasks I asked my men to do. No exceptions. Especially if the task was a drag."

"Do you think that makes you a better Commander?"

_No._ That's the word that pops into her mind. She can't say it, however, not out loud, not to this man. The word is an admission of weakness. So rather than lying, she skirts around the issue.

"I'm not the one who changes, doc. It's my men's perspective that does. If they see me leading with gloves of grime and blood, just like theirs, then they'll trust me and follow me." She shrugs, "Can't speak for everyone, but I know I wouldn't trust someone who's afraid to get his hands dirty."

"I see," Dr. Millman nods, "I've got to say, Shepard, I'm impressed at the progress you've made since I last saw you."

"Yeah, well...," she shrugs, unsure. She can never tell if his compliments are sarcastic or not. "Shall I continue?"

"Please," Dr. Millman says with a dip of the head.

Shepard goes on, "I'm informed that the makos have just picked a distress signal following Alliance protocol. We set a course for it, hoping that it comes from the missing team. The sun beats down on us unmercifully as we march forward. It's not long before it makes us sluggish. The soldiers don't say it, but I can see they're unhappy to go up and down and up again. I'm not immune to our unwelcomed circumstances. I'm getting tired, but contrary to some of the men, I don't look forward to sleeping here if it comes to that. I glance at the sky, the sun is retreating steadily so I know we'll have no other choice but to set up camp soon. I'm hoping the signal is near enough to get to it before we have to stop."

"Is there something specific about the place, apart from the sun, that made you uncomfortable, Shepard?"

Shepard searches for the right explanation. She can't very well admit that her worry had been prompted by Jarek's absence. "Something in the air," she says, "It's hard to explain. I guess it had to do with the stillness."

"The stillness?"

"Like I said, Akuz is a big planet, doc. Perhaps as big as Earth. It was certainly hot, but not too hot." She pauses, leans forward, "Yet there was no sign of life apart from us. Wouldn't that strike you as odd? Wouldn't you wonder if something dangerous resided in this planet? Something that would prompt the native life to hide? Wouldn't that then lead you to wonder if maybe, just maybe, the pioneer team stumbled upon that _thing_?"

"It's an interesting supposition," Dr. Millman agrees. "So why not leave?"

Shepard settles back, "Why? I had fifty of the best marines my ship had to offer, trained for years, combat-ready veterans. We were armed to the teeth. Even our makos were rigged with submachine guns and small missile launchers. If those were not enough, which at the time was doubtful, we had a dozen missile launchers, top-of-the-line. Each packed with two missiles that could detect heat signatures and would destroy anything upon impact. On top of that, we were already following what looked like a good damn lead. We could not ignore it. It was our mission to find the missing team, rescue them if they were still alive, recover their bodies if they weren't..."

"Yet, you still worried."

Shepard smiles drily, "It's part of the job."

"Fair enough," Dr. Millman relents. "So what happened next?"

"We continue onwards for who knows how long. Marines hauling heavier equipment start falling behind, exhaustion evident in the unbalanced way they walk. Yet, I force them to forge on. I call a stop only when we reach the signal. It comes from a half-buried mako, the Alliance logo is plastered on the side of the door. It looks beat up, yet it sports no bullet holes that I can see.

"I gaze around, scanning the area wearily just in case we were led here on purpose. The ground here is a wide, flat patch in between the mountains. There's no cover in a radius of perhaps fifteen miles, give or take a few. I want to order the men back into the mountains, but we need to excavate the mako, see if there's any bodies inside. I order half of the men to settle shifts and start digging. The rest I send out to scout ahead in every direction.

"The night is upon us soon after, horribly cold. The wind doesn't help either, one slap is all it takes to turn armors to ice. The mako has been excavated and there's no bodies inside. We do find more wreckage buried around us and start digging that up too. I'm hoping something here might provide a clue of what happened. The scouts come back with nothing to report. And I mean nothing. Not even a sighting of another living creature. I think it odd, but do not voice my concerns. The men are tired enough already without adding the extra stress. I reflect on the situation. There's much that needs to be excavated still, but I don't want to work the men to the ground in case there's an attack.

"I mull over the decision I have to make, torn. I know that I can order the men back the way we came, to set up camp between the mountains and avoid the wind, but there's still a chance we might get attacked. If we stay put, we could position the makos around us for cover and still be able to see the enemy coming. It's a tricky decision, but I sacrifice comfort for security. If the enemy decides to attack, they'll have to walk into the open to be within range.

"I order a Corporal to gather some men and park the makos around us." Shepard uses her hands and the glass of water to exemplify this for the doctor. She doesn't think it's necessary, but she feels the need to do it all the same.

"Do you know his name?"

Shepard frowns, "Excuse me?"

"The Corporal, do you know his name?"

"Of course," Shepard snaps, then berates herself the emotional outburst. She struggles to call forth the name. She knows it, but her tongue feels heavy and her lips are uncooperative. After a while, she answers, "Corporal Toombs."

"Interesting," he murmurs, egging her annoyance.

"You've got something to say, doc?" She barely stops herself from slapping the table in frustration.

"Not yet," he says innocently. "Carry on when you're ready, Shepard."

It takes tremendous effort for Shepard to swallow up her annoyance. She entwines her hands and leans on the table as she continues, "I allow the snipers to sleep inside the makos."

"Is there a reason for that?" Dr. Millman interrupts again.

Shepard sighs, "Snipers need to move quickly, therefore they're the most exposed when it comes to clothing. They were freezing..."

"I see," Dr. Millman murmurs. "So what happened next?"

"I hand pick my best engineers and have them stay inside as well, keeping a close eye on the radars. The equipment isn't much, but if a hostile force gets close enough, they should be able to pick it up."

Shepard stops for a moment, trying to find the right words to continue. Things get a little hazy from here on. Everything happened too fast. When Shepard tries to recall the details, she feels distant, as though it didn't happen to her, but to someone else. Another Shepard...

"I'm sleeping when...," she struggles for the right words, the right _lie_. Jarek materializes. He's standing just behind the doctor. He's looking at her knowingly. She shrugs and decides to go vague for a change, "_something_ wakes me up."

"Something?" Dr. Millman's interested, she can tell by the way he's leaning towards her.

"I don't know how to describe it," Shepard says, opting to go for a half-truth. How else could she describe what happened? It's not like she can disclose the truth, that the ghost of her brother woke her up. That he was the one who started moving towards one of the makos and that she found herself following, curios to see what he would do, where he would go.

"Instinct?" Dr. Millman offers. "Perhaps you felt the ground shake below you prior to everyone else? Perhaps your senses are sharper or your sleep was lighter?"

Shepard shrugs, "Perhaps. Who knows, doc?" She sighs, combing back her short hair. "Whatever the reason, I woke and went to the nearest mako. Despite my orders, the engineer was sleeping."

"His name?"

"Whose?" She's snaps, finding his interruptions aggravating. He wants to know what happened, right? So why keep asking for unimportant details?

"The engineer's name, do you remember it? Did you know him?"

"_Her_," she corrects, "and yes, I knew her. She's..." Shepard struggles with the name for a moment. "Corporal Jimenez."

Dr. Millman nods in confirmation, typing something into his datapad. Shepard realizes that this is the second time he's ask for names. This is also the second time the name seemed to have slipped away from her mind.

She takes the glass of water and drains half of it. It does little to patch her dry throat. She takes a moment to compose herself, to push away all the subsequent questions unleashed by her latest discovery. Her voice had trembled with the name. Why? Why had it been so hard to recall her name? Shepard used to have drinks with that woman, for crying out loud!

If Dr. Millman takes note of her rising insecurities, he hides it well. Shepard's grateful for that. She looks away and ends up staring at the glass half empty. The hell's wrong with her? Avoiding names isn't something she was conscious of until now. For some reason, it's harder to dive back into the memory. If she steps into the past, will she get trapped in the pit of despair she clawed out from?

"What happened after you woke Corporal Jimenez?" he asks, then adds almost as an afterthought, "Take your time, Shepard. There's no hurry."

Again, she can't help but wonder why Dr. Millman is acting like Dr. Stensen. Could it be that he did change? Could this sympathy be developed over the years? Would she too be able to comfort someone in the future? Shepard shakes her head and the thoughts therein. It doesn't matter. What matters is that she forges on and finishes the story, if only so she can close this chapter of her life.

"Like I said, I woke-," She stops and switches back to present tense. "I _wake_ Corporal Jimenez and ask her to check the radar for me. She's groggy and it takes her a while to register my order. She peers into the equipment, leaning so close I can no longer see the screen.

"She curses in a whisper. I wouldn't have caught it if I wasn't standing so close. When she turns to me, she's pale. 'There's something coming, Commander!' Before I can think to sound the alarm, the earth is shaking and then it's ripped open from below..." She looks down at the table and whispers, "All hell breaks loose after that..."

"The thresher maw?"

Shepard nods, "I feel blind... trapped. The mako doesn't have many windows so I can only see part of what's happening. I see men running to grab their gear, disoriented and confused. They're shooting at something behind us. Something big enough to have them shooting upwards.

"I order Jimenez to get us out. We're in the middle of a battlefield. I need some perspective before I can start strategizing and issuing orders. I pull a gawking soldier away from his post behind the mako's submachine gun. I sit and pull up, opening the hatch. The wind slaps me full in the face. I lower my visor, hoping to keep the raising dust out of my eyes.

"My equipment picks up the heat signature of something... _humongous_. Though I've never seen such a beast before, I know what it is. The dust settles down and I'm given a glimpse of what we're facing." She looks down at her hands, they're fisted so tight, her knuckles are white.

"There's two makos down already. Lilting the ground are countless, faceless bodies. The thresher maw is spitting acid at my men, some of them yelling, trying to take off their dissolving armors. Others are still shooting, moving backwards steadily. I can see panic in the way they've stopped aiming. I know what they're thinking because I'm thinking the same. There's nowhere to go. Chaos is a bullet away." Shepard looks up at the doctor, "If I had moved them to the mountains, they might've been able to get some cover from the acid..."

"It's not your fault, Shepard," Dr. Millman argues. "You couldn't have known what was going to happen. You assumed you would be facing geth."

She wants to scream that's not good enough! That she should've known! That she should've accounted for that as well. She wants to remind him the price paid for a decision she alone made. She wants him to acknowledge that all those deaths are on her! Shepard wants to be blamed. Anger she knows how to deal with, guilt... guilt makes her uncomfortable.

"Doesn't matter," she sighs, "I order Corporal Jimenez to radio the other makos and tell them to attack the monster with all they've got, only to be informed that there's two makos without working guns, courtesy of the thresher's welcome party. I tell her to have them pick up men and drive them out of the thresher's range at the very least... and then I watch both makos blow up when the thresher spits a mouthful of acid at them."

Shepard closes her eyes. She has her elbows propped on the table and she leans her head on her hands. Everything aches, not just her eyes. She wants to cry for all the men she's lost, but the tears won't come. Maybe she has forgotten how?

Dr. Millman's hand is suddenly on her shoulder, squeezing, attempting to provide comfort. Shepard's body tenses at the thought. It's not her who should be comforted, she has lost that right! It's the families of all the fallen who have earned a hand on their shoulder, a shoulder to cry on. She reeles back, away from him, shrugging his hand callously.

"We can take a break if you need one, Shepard," Dr. Millman offers.

Shepard ignores him, "We're losing and we're running out of options. Even with four makos attacking plus several clutters of foot soldiers, the thresher maw seems unharmed, unstoppable, invincible. I've used all the ammo of the mako's submachine gun. Some -_most_ of the soldiers outside have stopped any pretence of fighting and are trying to run away.

"The situation grows even more dire when a third mako is taken down and a fourth is sent spiraling through the ground, ending on its side. In a moment of clarity, I recall that we've brought several missile launchers. I understand it's our only choice, but the place where they'd been put is close to where the thresher maw has sprout. For all I know, the weapons have been swallowed up by the earth, like so many men had done every time the thresher retreated below the ground. Still, I have to try, I owe the marines I have left as much.

"I relay my plan to all available soldiers, using the comms to share it with those still in the fight. Two soldiers -a man and a woman, brother and sister- they offer to go with me. I don't recall their names," she confides before he can interrupt. Shepard knows their names, but they seem to have slipped out of her mind completely. Either that or some part of her is reluctant to remember.

She looks at Jarek. He's made his way to the table. He's standing beside Dr. Millman. The look on his face twists her heart into knots. It's getting hard to breathe. Unable to maintain eye contact, she looks away.

"It's okay, Shepard," Dr. Millman says, misinterpreting her reaction.

"I... I accept their offer, glad that they've volunteered. What we're about to attempt is insane, and I would hate forcing anyone to join me in the enterprise. We'll either make it and save the day, or we'll die a grim death. I know this and I'm prepared. I would go alone if I could, but three is better than one. If I die, I'm hoping one of them would reach the launchers and finish what I've started.

"Corporal Jimenez drives us as close to the thresher maw as she can, then stops to let us out. The thresher retreats and I can see some intact crates ahead. Better yet, the path towards them looks clear. I'm thinking we're in luck and charge onwards without hesitation, the two volunteers on tow. I stop when the ground starts shaking and turn back in time to see the bloody monster sprout below Jimenez' mako, snapping the vehicle in half with its jaw."

Shepard stops and drinks the rest of the water. The image is fresh in her head. It's one of those few clear moments of that day.

"I can hear them..." she says, tugging at her earlobe, as if to extricate the screams trapped there. "I can hear their screams. I think I might've..." She shakes her head. "I turn my back on the scene and pull at the armors of the flagger basted brother and sister. I point at our destination, at our objective and break into a run. I don't know if they're following. At this point, I'm running on pure adrenaline. I have to make it, if only to avenge those who just died."

She notices Dr. Millman's eyes are glinting with unshed tears. She tries to go over what she's just said, hoping to detect whatever would have cause his emotional response. Yet, Shepard's lost inside the memory and it's hard to shove it aside and push it back into the box where it came from.

"I reach the crates -what's left of them. I'm heaving, I can barely hear anything past my drumming heart. I glance around me only to notice the brother and sister are not with me. I don't know when or where I lost them. They're nowhere near. I'm not sure if they even followed to begin with..." Shepard shrugs, "Regardless, I have a job to do. I pry open a crate and find an intact launcher inside. I start moving the rest of the crates thoughtlessly in search for a missile." She smirks, "Fuck, I'm not even thinking about the possibility of blowing myself up in the process."

Shepard's hands turn to tight fists. She can feel her biotics acting up, creating an electric current that travels up and down her entire system. If she loosens her tight hold on them even a little bit, she knows something bad might happen.

"It's an eternity before I finally find one," she continues, pushing her biotics down, back into her core where she can control them. "I grab one and push it down the barrel of the launcher . I set it up in record time. I actually heave a sigh when I hear the beep indicating that it's ready. I'm acutely aware that there's not much shooting anymore and I try not to think about what that means.

"When I'm ready, I turn around and watch the last mako explode, catching at least three soldiers in the explosion, setting two more on fire. I'm about to pull the trigger when the thresher maw retreats underground. I'm looking all around me, body coiled, ready to react. I don't want to admit it but... fuck, I'm scared. The ground starts shaking and I realize with horror that the earth is ripping right below my feet!

"I start to run. I feel a strange calm left in the wake of my momentary panic. I feel the earth opening behind me, feel a draft of air so strong it sends me to the floor. I ball my body, protecting the launcher. I'm glad I took my finger off the trigger, else the missile would have exploded in my face. In one same motion, I twist as I fall so that I'm on my back, looking up at the worm-like creature towering me. I put my finger back on the trigger. I breath in... and squeeze.

"My arms are left shaking at the intensity of the launch. I'm trapped in a surreal bubble of time. I watch the missile rip a hole into the creature, leaving nothing where its head should been. I hear the tell-tale sound of my shields dying and the sizzling of my armor as acid rains down. I drop the launcher and scramble to my feet. That's when I notice the humongous body tilting in my direction.

"I try to keep steady. I'm disoriented and can barely walk, let alone run. Part of me knows I won't make it..." She sighs, "Still, I look ahead and..."

"What happens?"

Shepard is looking at the ghost of Jarek. She wants to tell the doctor the truth. That she saw Jarek in the distance, beside the burning mako, offering what he had never offered before...

_She's tired and scared. Every noise has been drowned out by the sound of her heavy breathing. There's chunks of charred flesh and fat droplets of acid raining down on her. Her feet are moving but she's making little progress. Everything's slowed down. Shepard feels trapped, panicked and high at the same time. _

_Movement ahead catches her attention. She zeroes on it and find someone there, moving, alive! She forces her eyes to focus, her mind to start spinning. She recognizes the figure standing twenty feet away, arms wide open. Jarek is smiling for the first time. His eyes are tender, his body gentle, ready to pull her into his arms and give her what she's always longed for. _

"Shepard?"

_She needs just reach for it to grab it, to feel it, to claim it as hers by right! _

"Commander Shepard?"

_Comfort and forgiveness... just twenty miserable feet away. _

_Her extremities are tingling. There's energy exploding in her core, pouring out her pores. This time the energy is controlled and powerful. Her surroundings blur and she feels herself charging forward at full speed, purple tainting her vision, leaving a trail of energy behind. _

"Shepard, are you okay?" Dr. Millman's hand is on her shoulder, squeezing, shaking, ripping her out of the memory.

Shepard blinks into reality. She shakes her head, clearing the image engraved in her retinas.

"I do something stupid and desperate," she says, ignoring his concerned look as she dives back into a _lie_. "I zero on one of the burning makos and use biotic charge. The slam steals the air out of my lungs, leaves me seeing black, more disoriented than before. There's blood coming out my lip and down my eyebrow," she touches the scar on her lip, running down her chin. "There's a terrible pain on my shoulder. I can't move it. I crawl away from the mako, to keep from being burned alive when I've already made it out of a thresher maw's death trap.

"When I regain some of my bearings, I look around only to find... no one. I'm in a... field of fucking death. I grab a discarded weapon, check to see there's a fresh thermal clip on it and move around the place. I study the camp turn battlefield, scavenging what I might need, medi-gels mostly. I check every pulse, collect every dog tag I find from the dead. There's three soldiers still alive but badly wounded. I drag them to the side, place them together, near the shade of the overturned mako. I do my best to keep them alive, applying medi-gel generously, but..." She shakes her head.

Dr. Millman breaks the pause before it can drag much longer, "How did you call your Captain?"

Shepard's glad he didn't ask for their names, those three soldiers she could not keep alive.

"The inside of the overturned mako was not badly damaged. The radio was still working so I called it in. By the time backup arrived...," Shepard smiles mirthlessly and leans back on her seat, exhausted. "there was just me. The rest... well, I'm sure you know the rest, doc."

Dr. Millman types something into his datapad, then leaves it on the table and leans forward, entwining his fingers, hands atop the cold table.

"It wasn't your fault, Shepard, you're aware of this, right?" he asks, his eyes scrutinizing, digging for the answer.

"Heard that before, doc," she points out. "Can't say I believe it yet."

"It's normal to feel guilt-"

"I told you my story," Shepard interrupts. "What you're going to say... I've heard it before, doc. All of it, many times, in two different occasions..." She looks away. "I'll be fine, I just need..." She shrugs and heaves a sigh that sounds melancholic," Am I free to go?"

Dr. Millman looks at her in silence for a short moment, contemplating her. He nods slowly and Shepard gains her feet. She goes to the door, relieved to be finished. Jarek is gone, she isn't sure the moment when he left but she knows he doesn't like it when she lies. Truth it, Shepard doesn't like it either, but it's become nothing short of a necessity.

She's just opened the door when Dr. Millman speaks, "One day, Shepard." She stops and casts a glance over her shoulder. There's a gentle and unusual smile in his eyes, quirking the corners of his lips. "One day, you'll be okay."

Shepard reflects on his words, hand still pressing the button, keeping her exit open. There's something in Dr. Millman's eyes, in his odd _change_ that bothers her. Something that she can't quite put her finger on, but which her instinct recognizes. Is this another guilty soul looking for forgiveness?

"Right back at you, doc," she responds with a smirk, glad to catch him off guard for a change. Someone who has tasted insanity deserves to hear that everything might be better too.

Dr. Millman's eyes fill with tears. It's still weird to be reminded that he's human. Whatever regret could cause such onslaught of emotions, it's not her job to find out. Anyone can hold a secret that cannot be disclosed, she knows this better than most.

"Goodbye, doc," Shepard says and before he can answer, she's out the door, leaving him with his grief and his pain. Unlike him, it's against her nature to intrude. She's too broken to try to fix anyone else.

The hall outside is empty. She pads down it's length, reminding herself not to drag her feet and look defeated. She looks around, peers into every room she passes in search for both her benefactor and her ghost. Eventually she finds the first near the front entrance. Anderson's in the company of the two guards. When he sees her, he smiles and bids Liam and Bryson farewell. Shepard shakes hands with both men and proceeds to leave with a smile and a few light words. It's hard to pull the card of 'I'm peachy' when she just relieved her first grand failure as a Commander. The taste in her mouth is rusty and bitter, like blood.

"Ready?" Anderson asks.

Shepard nods and manages a weak smile. God, she's tried, so goddamn tired. So when Anderson refrains from asking how it went, from poking at her open wounds, Shepard's grateful enough to want to kiss him. She doesn't, of course. It's already awkward as it is. Her Captain falls into step beside her and gives her enough space to maintain peace but not enough to feel his absence. It's a compromise she can work with.

When they reach the car, Shepard gets in, secures her seatbelt and leans back. Her head feels heavy and her neck is aching. She feels as though someone's pulling at her hair. It's an unwelcome feeling, but she can't shake it off.

She heaves a deep sigh and closes her eyes. She must have dozed off, because when Anderson shakes her awake, they're no longer outside the base. Shepard gazes out the window, trying to orient herself. She realizes guardedly that they aren't parked outside the promised bar either.

Instead, one look past the front window displays a familiar sight, one that's as unwelcomed as the ball of stress accumulated on the back of her neck. Feeling betrayed, she turns to Anderson hoping for an explanation -no, that's not true. She's gone past the point of pretending there's any control left in her. She wouldn't have been able to keep polite even if she tried. She's not hoping. Fuck, she's not even asking! She's _demanding_ a reason with eyes alone, given her tongue has turned to fucking lead.

Anderson's already climbing out of the car and therefore fails to catch her glare. Shepard crosses her arms, confused and seething. She stays there for a while, trying to collect her scattered wits with little success. When she looks out the window, she finds Jarek there, beside Anderson, looking at the same sight, not at Shepard but at what's beyond.

Resigned, she takes a deep breath, steels herself and finally musters the courage to climb out of the car. The wind feels cold, biting at her face as the sun paints everything a shade of gold. So much beauty in the face of so much death... it's unfair.

Digging her hands into her pockets she moves forward, up the hill where Anderson and her brother awaits. When her eyes take in what's behind the hill she staggers. It's as if someone has punched her in the stomach and slapped her face all at the same time. There's a peak of energy inside of her, biotics acting up in reaction to her emotions. She focuses on them, on controlling them.

"I thought you said you were taking me to a bar... sir," Shepard manages to say between clenched teeth, trying not to sound as angry as she is and failing miserably.

Anderson's eyes are tender when he looks at her, "I will take you to a bar, Shepard." He looks again at the garden of graves below. There's fifty pristine, white, marble tombstones coming out of the ground. Her men. Her unit. Her failure... "But first, I wanted you to see this."

This is the first time she's here. She hadn't made it to their funeral because she'd been in the hospital. She'd seen it on TV and had felt... a hole. Nothing concrete. It was rather like something was missing. Yet now, forced to be here, face to face with the consequence of her orders, the hole is filled with pain, frustration and regret. So much regret she's drowning. She hates this. She hates him, them -Anderson and Jarek.

"Why?" it comes out a dry croak. Her hands are flexed, fisted, shaking.

Anderson's dark eyes are on her, "Because before you can drown your grief, Shepard, you must confront it."

What Dr. Millman hadn't managed to do, Anderson did with those words. Shepard falls to her knees, pain exploding out of her guarded heart, filling her to the brim, his words the trigger. And so, in the face of a tragedy, with the comfort of a giant and the company of a ghost, Commander Shepard finally remembered how to cry.

[ END OF FILE ]


End file.
